Hymn LXXX. When a deare Freind is deceased.
[_]
Some, are so sensible of losing their dearly beloved
Friends, that, they are almost swallowed up with
grief. Therefore this Hymn was prepared to mitigate
their sorrow, by directing them for consolation
to Him, in whom they may find againe their deceased
friends, and better comforts then they lost.
Sing this as, In sad and Ashie weeds.
[1]
Now my Dear Friend is gon,
Ah me! how faint my heart appears!
How sad! and how alone!
How swoln with sighs, how drown'd with tears!
Fain would I tell,
What Griefs, what Hell,
Is now within my breast.
But who doth live,
That ease can give?
Or bring me wished Rest?
2
Those eares which I would fain,
Should once more hear what I would say,
Shall never, now again,
Vnto their Heart, my Thoughts convay.
Nor shall that Tongue,
Whose Tones, were Song,
And, musick, still to me;
To please, or chear,
My drouping ear;
Hereafter tuned be.
3
Oh Dear! oh gracious God!
If in our selves, we blisse had sought;
Of Passions, what a lode,
Vpon my Soul, had now been brought!
How had I found,
Within that Round,
Wherein, I should have run?
The joyfull end,
Which doth befriend,
Affections well, begun.
4
Had we our Love confin'd
To that, which mortall proves to be:
Or, had we been so blind,
That we death's pow'r could not foresee.
Where had been found,
When under ground,
My Dear-companion lay,
A fit Relief,
To cure that Grief,
Which wounds my Heart, this Day?
5
But, while we liv'd and lov'd,
In Thee, each other up we stor'd,
My Friend (by Death remov'd)
In thee, therefore, I seek, oh Lord!
My Losse, by none,
But, Thee alone,
Repaired, now, can be.
What I endure,
Admits nor Cure,
Nor Ease, except by thee.
6
Be thou to my sad heart,
A sweet Relief, now I am griev'd.
Be to it as thou wert,
When, here with me, my Dearest liv'd.
That which I lov'd,
Is but remov'd,
To Thee, our Perfect Blisse.
And that I had
Was but the shade
Of what my Darling is.
7
In Thee, Behold I shall;
In Thee, I shall again enjoy;
What thou away didst call,
And what thou didst by Death destroy.
We, by thy Grace,
Shall there, embrace,
Where Friends do never part.
Which, now I mind,
Methinks, I find
Sweet hope, relieve my heart.
8
I feel it more, and more,
My Soul of Comfort to assure.
And, now, for ev'ry sore,
I know, and feel, thou hast a Cure.
For which my Tongue,
Shall change her Song,
Thy Goodnes to commend.
And, thou art he
Who, still, shalt be
My best affected Friend.
